


Always There

by WanderingSummerBreeze



Category: Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:16:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9247586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSummerBreeze/pseuds/WanderingSummerBreeze
Summary: Not my best. Just a quick one. It's the night before the 2017 Golden Globes.





	

“So, what are you wearing?”

I laughed. It shouldn’t be funny anymore. It should, in fact, be downright annoying, considering this was the same question he had asked thrice in a matter of a few minutes. And yet…I laughed.

“Heughan,” I groaned as I let my head fall back on the pillow.

“Yeah, like that, Balfe. Groan just like that,” he said, amused.

I sighed heavily into the phone, exhausted from the last few weeks. We were both quiet, our soft breathing barely audible across the thousands of miles of separation.

“Sam.” I spoke his name softly, testing it out, once more, after days of its absence upon my lips. I heard his heavy sigh, its muffled sound expressing his feelings more than planned.

A moment of silence more, then, “How was the tea?”

I laughed again.

“British.”

“Well,” Sam laughed, “at least that’s good. A bit of home in that fucking city.”

He meant to speak the words lightly, but they fell with malice upon my ears.

“I missed you today. I’ve missed you all week.”

“I’m there. You know I am. My hand is holding yours, the other is brushing that strand of hair that always falls across your left side. I’m always there, Caitriona.”

I eased further into the bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a shadow on the wall. I stared at it, morphing the silhouetted rippled lamp-shade into a ginger-haired man watching me from across the room. I heard his words and they warmed my body, but did nothing to dull the ache that he wasn’t truly here. Not really. I glanced down at the ring on my finger, circling the gold, round and round, my finger.

“Ask me again.” I said.

He did as instructed, no explanation needed. His voice, first teasing with his initial question, was now an octave lower, a clear sign of his arousal and longing.

“What are you wearing, Caitriona?”

I had pulled off the belt, and kicked off the shoes an hour ago, but the black dress I wore to the BAFTA party, still draped across my body.

“Black dress. Simple.”

“Bra? Knickers?”

“No bra. But yes, to the knickers. Those black lace ones you picked up at _Agent Provocateur_.”

I heard him chuckle softly, “Which ones? The one with the matching bra?”

“No. The one with the matching gold pair.”

“Ahh,” I heard the faintest sound of a zipper being lowered, “I love you in those.”

“You do know how to dress me. Or, undress me.”

“Put me on speaker, Cait.”

“Hang on a bit,” I heard a groan of displeasure, before jumping off the bed and rummaging through my luggage. I panicked, briefly, wondering if I had forgotten it – how could I forget it? – but sighed in relief as I pulled the old grey sweatshirt from beneath the plethora of clothes.

Hopping back on the bed, I did as told, putting the phone on speaker, and placed it beside me on the pillow. “Okay.”

“What were you doing?”

“Grabbing the shirt.”

“Jesus,” I could almost see Sam shake his head in amused annoyance, “would you let me give you a new one. That one is ancient.”

“This one,” I brought the tattered and creased shirt to my nose, inhaling pure _Heughan_ , “is the one you were wearing when you cooked me breakfast the first time. It smells of eggs and sex and you –“

“Lovely combination,” I heard him interrupt, dryly.

“It is. And it smells of easy. When it was just the two of us. Nothing else.”

“Alright. Well, lay down. Keep it close.”

I inhaled the heady scent once more, before placing it next to me, on his side of the bed.

“I want you to take that gorgeous hand of yours, and run it up your leg, from your ankle. I want you to do it slowly, until you reach the hem of your dress, then push underneath.”

I let my mind go blank, my eyes closing momentarily, bringing Sam into the room with me, before opening them again. I reached down, my manicured hand touched my ankle, the fingers falling to the side as I slowly did as he asked, and brought my hand upward, leaving goose-flesh in my path and I could feel the heat begin in my belly.

Sam’s voice was soft, yet commanding, as he told me to curl my fingers around my panties, rubbing myself. The rough lace scratched across my most sensitive flesh.

“I want you to pull your panties aside, Caitriona. Leave them on. I want you to push a finger inside. Tell me which finger. Tell me how you feel,” Sam’s voice echoed from the phone. I was certain he had me on speaker as well. I pushed my index finger inside me, its touch sending shivers of eroticism throughout my body, yet, the slender finger doing very little to satiate my appetite for his strong fingers.

“Are you hard, Sam. Are dripping down your beautiful –,” I arched my back as images of his hand, stroking his cock, readying himself for me, flooded my mind.

“Yes, baby. I’ve got my left hand rolling my balls and my right, fisting my cock. Can you feel me? I’m rubbing it across your pussy.”

“Yes.” I pushed another finger inside me, missing his fullness that filled my body wholly.

Sam was sitting at a desk in his hotel room. His pre-cum and spit lubricating his cock, aiding in his pumping. He spoke of longing for my tongue to run up the long, protruding vein that went from South to North, up his beautiful pink cock. I would trace my tongue, up and down, that vein for minutes on end, before engulfing his entire length in my mouth, only to pull free and play with that spot once more.

No longer satisfied with the fingers inside my body, I leaned over, rummaging through my suitcase once more, _ssshing_ Sam’s protests. It only took me seconds to find what I needed. I gave it no thought at all, as I fell back on the bed, pulled his sweatshirt over my face, and tucked one hand in between the collar of the dress to take hold of a breast, and brought the object to my wet centre and switched _ON_.

The buzzing sound broke through our pants and moans. The instant it touched my clit, I cried out, calling Sam’s name.

Sam, aware, if not completely, of the situation, pushed me on, nearing his own orgasm. “Pull me inside you, Caitriona. Tighten your muscles around my cock. Fuck.”

I could hear the sounds of his breath hitch, as his hands glided hastily over his wet cock. Between the slapping noise of his flesh, the smell of him surrounding me, and the vibrations below, I careened quickly over the edge. “Sa-mmm.”

I heard not but a few grunts and heavy breathing from across the soundwaves as I slowly floated back down to the bed, my finger flipping the switch again.  

My breathing leveled and I pulled the shirt from my face, eyes remaining closed, enjoying the afterglow, but missing the sweaty arms that normally would be embracing me after the act. I heard a soft, _hmmm_ , come from the phone and smiled. “You are always here.”

“I am.”

I turned my head to the side, taking him off speaker as I put him to my ear. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I heard some rustling, then an idle, _shit._ “Got some cum on the floor.”

I Laughed. A hearty laugh. A laugh that sprung tears from my eyes and a snort from my nose.

“Hey,” Sam objected, “not all of us can just bring a vibrator and have a nice clean orgasm, you know.”

“Um, I didn’t bring my vibrator.”

“Yes, you did. I heard it, Balfe.”

“Yeah…” I paused, my eyes falling on the object with a grin, “Not my vibrator. I used my toothbrush.”

“Say what?”

“My electric toothbrush,” feeling the need to defend myself when no response came, “my fingers weren’t enough and I knew it was there, so it just…came to me.” The phone remained silent on the other end and I could feel my heart speed up, “What?”

“Two things. One: you’re going to need to get a new toothbrush in the morning. Two: I’m going to need to see that when you get home.”

I muffled my laugh into the pillow, feeling the embarrassment flood my cheeks. “I’ll be home Monday.”  


“Yes, you will. But now you need sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

We said our _good nights_ and while I was nervous and excited for tomorrow, I also was more than eager to just have it be Monday again. Back to Scotland. Back to work. Back to my man, with the outside world, and all its demands, falling away again. No need to make up stories of perceived lives. At least for a while.

 

***

 

Dressed and ready for the show, I had asked for a few moments to gather my thoughts. I sat in the hotel room with my eyes closed and begging _zen_ to wash over me, before my phone vibrated with a message. I opened to a message from Sam. One sentence, and my heart filled with joy.

I grabbed my clutch and phone and headed to the door. When I pulled it back, I was face to face with a suited-up Heughan, his tie and kerchief matching my dress, and a soft smile across his face.  I could feel tears well up and I looked down at the phone message again.

 _Always There_.

 


End file.
